


fine

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Don’t read this, suicidal ideation i guess?, tw cutting, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:48:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: because of course she did.dont read this, its a vent thing. seriously its triggering and shit. dont.





	fine

Here we are. 

She fucked up again, because of course she did. Teacher’s pet. Fuck up- how the two seem to go hand in hand right now.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad she wants to cry or do something to stop the pain, but the entire fucking point of this is to feel pain, to feel anything to distract herself from the fact that she’s a screw up. 

It’s her own fault, too. Thats the thing. She should have been more thoughtful or less impulsive or any number of things, really, just whatever she wasn’t. 

She’s so tired. So achingly, should crushingly tired. And it isn’t the kind of tired you sleep to fix, but the tired that soaks deep into your bones and doesn’t relinquish its hold on you. She’s tired from lack of sleep and she’s tired of being sad or apathetic or guilty. Her stomach hurts, her hip hurts every single part of her broken fucking body hurts. She wants to do something, anything to just get off the fucking ground and do something to try and fix the fucking mess she’s created for herself. But she can’t, or she won’t- either way she doesn’t. 

And eventually the sting turns numb and she drags herself off her bedroom floor and does her homework like a good girl. She does it even though it hurts her soul, she’s in so much pain already why can’t she get this one break, but its fine. No one cares, anyways. 

—-

“Alana, honey? How’s studying?” She gives her mother a nod- its about all she can muster up right now. “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll do fine, I know you’ll get a good grade on that final.” Because of course. Because thats all Alana is to anyone, right? She gets good grades. The teachers think she’s so well behaved. What a wonderful daughter. Her friends sometimes just use her to insult for no fucking reason at all- but its fine, right? They’re going through their own shit right now, far worse than poor little Alana, she can handle being told everything she says is wrong, she can handle being ignored, she can handle feeling like the people she’s built her sanity around could give a shit if she died. They don’t mean it. Buck up. It’s fine. 

(It isn’t)

It’s fine that every insult hurts almost as much as the lines she carves into her skin. It’s fine that she hates everything about herself, and is starting to think everyone else does too. 

It’s fine. 

Her stomach has been hurting for longer than she can remember. Is this what it feels like to die? Dying might not be that bad, she postulates, if you think about it. She supposes that whatever comes after this cant be as bad as this. 

She hates herself for thinking that. She hates herself for not being more grateful- its an ever growing list, really, the list of things she hates about herself. 

She feels so alone. She feels like no one gives a shit about her. Most of them don’t act like it. After all, no one rally talks to her unless they want something. Everything she says is wrong, so whats the point of saying anything?

She’s scared of herself. Thats the kicker. She’s scared that one day she’ll cut too deep, or swallow a bottle of pills and that’ll be that. She hates herself, but she is desperately clawing, grappling to hold onto a shred of life. 

Everyone hates her. School is breaking her. And she sure as shit hates herself- she’s got the scars to prove it. So many scars. 

But its fine. 

It doesn’t matter. 

She’s fine. 

(She’s not fine, she hasn’t been fine in so long, but its not like anyone cares.)

She’s fine. 

Oh, what a wonderful mess you’ve made for yourself, Alana. What a wonderful mess indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry


End file.
